Dressing for Dark Days

This morning, like every other day, people across the United States of America will wake up and get dressed. But in the aftermath of the 2024 Presidential election—as people grapple with the ramifications of a second Donald Trump presidency—many Americans have to summon the strength to get out of bed, pull on some clothes, and go on.

As people attempted to carry on this morning, I couldn’t help but take stock of how New Yorkers dressed to face a world that has chosen hatred in its many forms. I leaned into mourning in a black boatneck long-sleeve t-shirt and black jeans. I quickly found that I wasn’t alone. The first two young women I saw after I left my apartment were also cloaked in head-to-toe black. Walking down the train platform in Williamsburg, Brooklyn felt like a funeral procession.

During such precarious moments, our clothing takes on a bigger meaning. It becomes armor, a source of comfort, a signal of shared values. Being surrounded by people in mourning clothes offered an unexpected moment of comfort and community. This morning, I walked along the street and waited for the train alongside people—mostly women—dressed in black suits, skirts, and dresses, bloodshot eyes veiled by dark glasses. I know they shared not only my same sartorial tendencies, but also my heartbreak over the election’s outcome and profound disappointment in those who voted against our best interests.

Fashion is an art, yes, but it is also foundational to our everyday lives. And in desperate times, it becomes a salve. Today, I look around the Vogue office and see my coworkers using clothing as a coping mechanism. Many of my colleagues who sought comfort swaddled themselves in cozy knit sweaters and turned to well-worn jeans and broken-in flat shoes. And, like myself, a large contingency are wearing their hearts on their sleeves, dressed in all black. Some used it as an outlet for their fury and outrage, ready to take on a new day in sharp-shouldered blazers and platform heels. Others yearned for a sense of normalcy and dressed for business as usual.

We have a long road ahead, but it’s imperative that we let ourselves sit in our feelings today—and dress for whatever makes us feel protected, strong, or comfortable. Grief is a lonely feeling. To know, just by their clothing, that the stranger beside us on the train or crossing paths on the way to work is in the same boat is a small solace, but a welcome one.